Tao Te Ching – Chapter Sixty–Nine
Written by Lao-tzu – From a translation by S. Mitchell
The generals have a saying:
"Rather than make the first move,
it is better to wait and see.
Rather than advance an inch,
it is better to retreat a yard."
This is called,
going forward without advancing,
pushing back without using weapons.
There is no greater misfortune,
than underestimating your enemy.
Underestimating your enemy,
means thinking that he is evil.
Thus you destroy your three treasures,
and become an enemy yourself.
When two great forces oppose each other,
the victory will go,
to the one that knows how to yield.
How I Read This Chapter
Strength isn’t about striking first.
It’s about knowing when not to.
It’s about waiting, watching,
and refusing to dehumanise the other.
Real power comes through restraint.
True wisdom flows from yielding.
When we stop trying to defeat,
we begin to understand.
What This Means To Me
This chapter takes me right back to the early days of recovery, when I was still trying to fight everything – my feelings, my past, my fear of what people thought of me. I thought strength meant pushing through, showing up harder, louder, tougher. But all that got me was more pain, more isolation, and more thought of drinking. Then I learned to pause. To wait. To stop making the first move.
“Rather than make the first move, it is better to wait and see.” That’s not passivity – it’s wisdom. In recovery, pausing is an act of faith. It says, “I don’t need to control this. I don’t need to win. I can let this unfold and meet it calmly.” That pause has saved me
countless times – from arguments, from relapses, from saying things I can’t take back. Today, I practise pausing like it’s a spiritual discipline.
I also think this chapter has a lot to say about my inner world. Because sometimes the “enemy” isn’t another person – it’s a thought, an emotion, an old pattern trying to drag me back. And when I underestimate it – when I think I’ve outgrown it, or I’m too evolved to slip – I’m in danger.
“Underestimating your enemy means thinking that he is evil.” Wow. That line hits hard. It reminds me that when I label someone or something as “bad” or “the problem,” I lose perspective – and compassion. I become reactive. Defensive. And then I lose all three
treasures: simplicity, patience, compassion. When I turn my fear into blame, I become what I was afraid of.
But this chapter offers another way, “When two great forces oppose each other, the victory will go to the one that knows how to yield.” That sentence could be etched into every Big Book and recovery room wall. Yielding isn’t weakness – it’s wisdom. It’s what Step One is all about. I had to yield to my powerlessness before I could access any real strength. I had to let go to get hold of something deeper.
And it keeps showing up in my life;
- In arguments, I yield by listening.
- In fear, I yield by pausing.
- In shame, I yield by reaching out instead of withdrawing.
- In success, I yield by remembering it’s not all me.
Yielding doesn’t mean I roll over. It means I move with, not against, what’s real. It means I trust the Tao more than my ego. And when I do, I don’t need to win. I just need to stay open, kind, and present.
Today, I don’t fight for control. I yield to what is. And somehow, in doing that, I find a
strength greater than force, and a peace deeper than victory
